


Helpless

by BecauseFanfictionThough



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Gotham, Helpless, Oswald Cobblepot - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-13
Updated: 2016-04-13
Packaged: 2018-06-02 01:44:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,502
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6545428
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BecauseFanfictionThough/pseuds/BecauseFanfictionThough
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>From the moment you saw him you were frozen-- helpless, even.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Helpless

Even from across the room her eyes were sparkling as she laughed. Her smile was perfect. It was a mouth that led down to a pointed chin and a slender neck with collar bones that arched out to the straps of a red dress. Her arms, shaped perfectly with a glass of wine held daintily in the hand of the right one.

Fuck, you didn’t stand a chance with your sister in the room.

In only minutes she glided away from the man she’d been speaking to and onto one hardly ten feet away as the original bachelor turned away towards the bar. She began to speaking to the new man. The transition was effortless and he instantly forgot the woman he was entertaining to when she opened her mouth. Bachelor number one returned a while later with two drinks. Your sister simply handed him her glass, took the full glass of wine from his hand, and continued speaking to her new endeavor. You were nothing short of envious.

You tore your eyes away from her. You hated going to galas with your older sisters, especially ones like this because Gotham’s leaders weren’t exactly charming.

“’Ey, doll,” a voice to your right made your eyebrows raise. It was rugged. The bad kind. The kind that you knew what he looked like before you turned your head to look at him.

His oily hair was slicked to the side and he was in a suit that was obviously borrowed because it obviously didn’t fit him right. His jacket hung loosely and the dress shirt underneath looked ready to unleash all of its buttons it was so tight. You gave a polite smile but then quickly turned your head back in the other direction. He spit out a few insults that tended to come with silent rejection: “Stuck up”, “Brat”, “Slut”.

The Iceberg Lounge was nice, at least. If all the booths weren’t full you would sit in one. They were velvet and looked far more comfortable than the four inch stilletos of Daisy’s that she had insisted you wear.

Suddenly your breath caught in your throat. You hadn’t even realized that you were looking at the door way until he walked in. He wasn’t conventionally handsome; He was nobody that Daisy would go for, no matter how easily she could charm him. But he was…something. Black hair pointed up in the center with the edges slicked back and a suit that had been tailored specifically for him. There was something striking in the way his blue eyes darted around the room, like he was trying to remain calm but trying to figure out how many people were in the room at the same time. He wasn’t looking for anyone. He was just surveying the place. It was intriguing.

A hand on your arm made you gasp. As many times as men grabbed you to get your attention when you didn’t want to speak to them you never got used to it and you were completely prepared to flail your clutch at their face to convey your disinterest. Luckily you realized it was your sister before you hurt her.

“Christ, Daisy, you scared me,” you breathed heavily, pressing your clutch to your chest because your other hand was occupied holding your own glass of wine that was getting low. The difference between the two of is that you were going to have to get your own refill at the bar.

Your sister simply giggled in response. That giggle that entranced guys and brought out broad grins that spelled out possible futures—big, workless futures in big manors as they hustled and stole her a living. You ignored it and focused on the words she spoke next: “Any potentials?”

You sighed, “No. Never at these things. The guys are always so…ugh.”

“Oh come on, how about Gionelli? He’s got a start up business in Central City,” She nodded across the room to a man of above-average facial features and drastically below-average height.  
Again, another sigh passed through your lips. You really had to work on doing that less. “No thanks. He’s not my type.”

Daisy’s face immediately became annoyed, like it always eventually did at these things. You fiddled with the strap of your black dress. You liked black. It didn’t stand out. It helped people look right over you. You looked away which was your mistake because your eyes immediately fell back on the man who had caught your eye earlier. He was thin, and apparently had a limp, but there was still something about him that drew you to him.

“Who’s that?” Daisy asked with that tone that let you know she recognized the look in your eye. It must have been the same look in your eye when you first saw Zeke, The last asshole she had introduced you to that you’d decided to give the time of day to.

“I don’t—“ the words had barely left your mouth before she was gone.

Your heart beat out of control for the entire time you watched her stride across the room and came to a sudden halt when she stopped beside him, tapping his shoulder.

You tried to convince yourself that she was interested in him. That you’d simply drawn her attention to him and now as she placed a hand on his shoulder and spoke into his ear that she was saying one of those sly line you were never able to decode that would send him spiraling in love with her. But your hopes were dashed when, simultaneously, both of their gazes fell on you. You could feel your cheeks heating up and you looked down at your glass. There was one sip left and you took it down savagely, hoping you looked brutish enough to dissuade any possible attention. Your hopes were dashed when, side by side, the two began to walk towards you. You were starting to sweat. Honest to god, physically sweat. This was not good.

“…and this is my little sister, ___________,” Daisy said once the two of them were close enough for her to obviously be referring to you.

You opened your mouth. You wanted to speak and be smooth like your big sister but nothing came out. You looked down at your glass, quickly remembering that there was no more wine for you to pretend to be distracted with.

Without a word the man reached forwards and pulled your empty glass from your hand before turning around. He held it in the air and didn’t have to utter a single syllable before someone pulled it from his hand. He then turned back to you.

“Oswald…Cobblepot. Pleased to make your acquaintance,” he said. His voice was not deep but it was not high. It was at a perfectly comfortable level for your ears and you prayed to whatever gods might be above that your hands hadn’t started to shake because when he grabbed your glass his pinky had brushed yours. What was happening? What was coming over you? You were being ridiculous.

The music, once upbeat and fast faded out and a slow number replaced it. Oswald’s hand was extended towards you immediately.

“May I?” He asked.

You looked to Daisy, praying that a miracle would happen and she would give you a way to turn him down but all you got was an intense, wide-eyed look and a slight nod of her head.

“Sure,” You managed. You internally cringed immediately. “Sure”, you had said. How elegant of you.

He accepted your hand regardless and pulled you towards the open space of floor where everyone was dancing. His hand remained in yours as his other found your waist. A shiver shot up your spine when it gripped you firmly but not tight. He knew exactly what he was doing. You hesitated, wondering truly what it was that he was doing. He could have tried to entice Daisy but had willingly come to you. What was the catch?

“You look exquisite,” were his next words. You wanted to thank him but again, nothing came out. You just stared. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

He didn’t criticize you, he simply continued to dance with you. It was a practiced step, and he held eye contact with you, a slight smile on his lips the entire time until the song finally began to fade out. He removed his hand from your waist then, but not from your hand.

“Would you like another glass of wine?” he asked.

You wanted to tell him no. Every fiber of your being was shouting at you to run because as hypnotic as his gaze was there was something chilling in it. Something in you was telling you to leave right then but every other piece of you was absolutely helpless to that stare.

“I’d like that,” You said, finally letting your full smile show.

His lips curled outwards even further as he led you away from the dance floor, towards the bar.


End file.
